


Thanks, Man...

by Sally M (sallymn)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Series 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-13
Updated: 2009-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So how do you say thank you the thirteenth time..?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks, Man...

**Thanks, Man...**

****

How the hell do you thank someone for saving your life the first time, never mind the second, third... fifth, sixth - this makes it the _thirteenth_ time, and just since I started counting, y'know? Thirteen is supposed to be unlucky - though it's true that the Sikhs consider it a lucky number, so do Italians, and it's sacred to many Pagans which might explain why Christians _don't_. And many Russian Jews see it as the gematria of...

****

I'm babbling again. I am. Thirteen is supposed to be _un_lucky. But not for Blair Sandburg, no way man. No way.

****

So anyway, I don't think a slap on the arm and a "thanks, man", however heartfelt - and trust me, after three hours being the 'guest' of Cascade's latest nutso, a balding six-foot jailbreaker built like Doc Savage on megasteroids with a temper to match, it's heartfelt, it's _sooo_ heartfelt - is gonna cut it yet again.

****

I'm tired, and my head still hurts, and Jim's told me at least a dozen times to go to sleep. But I can't stop counting all those times he saved me, and I keep thinking, and even _I_ can't sleep and think at the same time. But how _do_ you thank someone for saving your life at least thirteen times, and that's just this _year_?

****

Because Jim came through again, of course, just as Nutso seemed to think I'd be quieter dead or something - hey, when I'm scared I babble, I did warn Nutso of this and he kidnapped me anyway, what's a guy to do? - and decided to use my head as a punching bag. Pity about the dropped gun... but as always Jim managed without it, a Blessed Protector's gotta do with what he can get his hands on, like Nutso's own double-barrelled shotgun. So Nutso's still alive if dented, and I'm about the same if the doctor - and my head - are to be believed.

****

Alive is good, though. More than good. I can live with alive.

****

Blessed Protector... that was my idea, wasn't it? I called him that once, I think it might have been time number four or five... yeah, Lash the Psycho WannabeMe. But man, I had _no_ idea he'd take on the job so thoroughly - but then, how was I to know at that stage just what an insurance risk observing was? Okay, okay, so getting monstered and nearly kidnapped by white supremacist whackos my first day - which _was_ the thirteenth, now I think of it, though that's just a superstition, thirteen's not unlucky, no way, it's just... anyway, that should have given me a clue, but what can I say? There's no getting through to the really bright and utterly dumb.

****

And it wasn't a Friday. Not that I'm superstitious, it's just an interesting study why the whole Cascade PD is convinced I started on Friday 13th...

****

Hey, when I stop being scared I babble, too. I should have warned Jim, but I think he knows.

****

But it's not like I should _need_ protecting, hey I can manage, even on a Friday _or_ a thirteenth, but it's good to know that when creeps like Lash - or Carasco - or Galileo - or Nutso - see that karmic bullseye somewhere on me (and man, what _did_ I do in a past life to get this sort of luck? Better not ask Mom. Or Simon). _someone_ will be there, dragging his Captain, all of Major Crimes and half of Cascade PD in his wake... it's more than good.

****

So anyway, back to thanking Jim _for_ being there. I dunno, maybe I could put thirteen candles on a Wonderburger and serve it with thirteen beers. Bet he'd go for that.

****

Naah... don't want to jinx his favourite food, do I? Back to the slap on the arm and the heartfelt "thanks, man." Thirteen million times, if my Sentinel doesn't again tell me to just shut up and go to sleep.

****

How the hell _do_ I thank you, Jim? Jim...? Just... thanks, man...

**

***

**

He's asleep, at last.

****

I didn't think he'd even go off, so wired up and breathless and that big battered overflowing brain of his going at a million miles an hour, along with his mouth, of course. Huh. _He_ kept thanking _me_.

****

That's a good one.

****

Because how the hell do I thank you for saving my life, Blair... _every day_ of my life?

**

  
**\- the end -**   


**


End file.
